You Can Run
by NuclearNik
Summary: Draco and Hermione have the Manor to themselves. Whatever will they do to pass the time?


"Think you can make it, princess?"

Draco almost laughed when Hermione's eyes flicked rapidly back and forth between the door and where he stood.

On one of the nights when the two of them lay curled up together, sharing secrets in the dark, she had hastily tacked on a fantasy she had to the conversation they were having about desires and needs.

So he'd asked her to elaborate and listened as she told him that the idea of being chased and eventually caught—the adrenaline, the little hint of fear that that only made the pleasure sharper—turned her on.

They'd talked about it a bit more. Hermione made it clear that part of the appeal was not knowing exactly when it would happen.

He'd filed it away.

A few weeks later, the perfect opportunity presented itself on a silver platter.

They were staying at his family home while his parents were out of the country. He and Hermione had a townhouse in the city, but his parents would be gone long enough that they'd asked them to keep an eye on the place.

They'd be the only ones there.

And now, as he watched Hermione raise her chin and arch one eyebrow, looking at him imperiously even though she was positively vibrating with nervous energy, he decided that perhaps he could get into this little game too.

"I'm lighter. More nimble. Your arrogance will be your downfall."

"Big words for such a little witch."

She shifted her stance minutely, the hem of her red cloak rippling as she prepared to launch herself towards the door.

Despite his opening line, she _was_ getting through the door. Otherwise, this would be over before it started, and where was the fun in that?

"I'm waiting," he said, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a predatory manner.

A breath, two, and then she was off, feet pounding on the marble floor of the long hallway that led from one suite of rooms to a sitting room, and eventually the back door.

He gave her a head start, waiting for a few beats before casually strolling down the hall.

If he knew her, and he did, she'd hide, realizing off the bat that she couldn't outrun him—she'd have to outsmart him.

"Hermione." He said her name in a singsong tone, and it echoed through the hall.

He could hear the slap of her bare feet against the floor, letting him know she was still running.

Suddenly, the pitter-patter stopped as she found a hiding place.

Draco smiled. He had known she would.

The hallway they'd come down led into a sitting room with a door leading outside. There was another narrow door to the left, a passage for house-elves to get to the kitchens. The room was filled with several nooks and crannies in the walls and various furniture and end tables with expensive tablecloths brushing the ground.

He stalked through the room, stopping just in front of a coffee table covered with thick material. He stepped close enough that the tips of his shoes were only just beyond the edge of the fabric, just enough to unnerve Hermione if she was hiding under there, concerned that she'd be found out.

With heavy steps, Draco turned towards the door that connected to the kitchen, flinging open the door with a crack as it hit the wall.

Just as he thought she would, Hermione slipped out from under the table, fabric rustling as she crawled out and headed for the back door.

He nearly caught her just before the doorway, but she made it out before he could, running out the door into the garden. There was a forest just at the edge of the property, dense and dark.

She must have thought the forest to be a sheltering place, thinking she could slink around in the shadows and avoid him.

To his delight, she did just that, sprinting towards the tree line.

He knew those woods intimately. He spent endless hours there hiding from the world and the pressure from his father.

Certainly, Hermione could attempt to lose him in the maze of foliage, but she wouldn't succeed.

And so, when she disappeared into the shadow laden woods, he laughed and followed after her.

"I know these woods like the back of my hand, Hermione. You don't stand a chance, love. Should have stayed in the house—more places to hide," he called out.

The forest was quiet for a moment as he stood in place, ears keenly focused on any sound she might make as she romped through the trees. When a twig snapped a few yards to his left, Draco turned sharply in the direction of the sound.

The moon shone through the trees just enough to cast shadows on the forest floor, conveniently outlining the shape of his prey only a few trees away.

Careful where he placed his feet, Draco quickly and quietly snuck up behind Hermione, snaking an arm around her waist.

She screamed, the sound echoing through the forest.

When she ceased her struggling and let her body go limp and compliant, he should have anticipated what was coming next.

The very moment he relaxed his grip barely an inch, she slid down and out of his arms, taking off again.

With a growl, he sprinted forward, keeping his eyes on the frizzy halo of hair around her head. He was closing in, and he heard her squeak when she glanced back and saw how close he was.

A few more pounding steps against the forest floor and he had her again, hand catching in the fabric of her cloak and bringing her to a skidding stop.

With his arms around her middle, he twisted, taking the brunt of the fall before flipping their positions and pressing her back to the ground. There was no way she was getting free this time.

Their noses nearly touched when he brought his face close to hers and whispered, "I caught you."

A grin full of sass and charm lit up her face.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I can think of a few ideas." He pulled back, straddling her legs and sitting up on his knees, hands reaching to unfasten the toggle of the cloak where rested above her collarbone.

With the cloak unbuttoned, Draco cupped his hand beneath her head and lifted slightly, spreading the hood out beneath her hair. The fabric was spacious enough to cover the ground beneath them, keeping her from the dirt and twigs.

Gods, she looked good, displayed before him like a delectable meal.

She was flushed from the run, pink dusting over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose to make her look innocent, like little red riding hood caught by the big bad wolf.

Bracing one arm on the ground just beside Hermione's shoulders, he dipped his head to kiss along her jaw, using the tip of his tongue to lick a stripe along the delicate line of her throat and nipping at the tender skin. Making his way to her mouth, he pressed into her, tongue sweeping in to run over the sensitive skin on the inside of her lip.

His hand played with the loose front of her blouse, fingers slipping underneath the neckline to caress her skin.

When she wiggled just a bit beneath him, hips pushing up into his, he had to steady himself. This was about her—her fantasy, her pleasure, her big brown eyes staring up at him in ecstasy.

Anchoring her with a hand on her hip, he clucked his tongue and said, "Mmm-mm. I need you to stay still, love. Think you can do that?"

Hermione Granger loved a challenge, loved proving that she could do something perfectly. When he gave her directives like that, he knew it would spark the lion in her to rise to the occasion.

Her mouth twisted in a little smirk as she raised one eyebrow as if to say, "Bring it." He laughed low, gaze breaking from her face to trail down her chest, still rising and falling rapidly from her heaving breaths.

Her blouse was some kind of flimsy, slippery material, and he could see the shadow of her nipples as they poked insistently from underneath the fabric.

Slowly, he pushed his hands up along her ribcage to her chest, plumping her breasts in his hands before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.

A sigh fell from her lips when he swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucking and nipping as he cupped his hand around her other breast to pluck and pinch. He switched back and forth, giving each side equal attention, thumb grazing the soft underside of her breasts as he adjusted his movements according to the sounds she made. When he finally pulled back, her eyes were starting to look glassy.

A good sign, but not quite there yet.

He wanted her mindless beneath him, delirious with satisfaction.

His mouth left two damp circles on her shirt, and the material became see-through. Her skin started to pebble with goosebumps as the slight breeze blew across the wet fabric clinging to her. Draco took the opportunity to nibble on her earlobe, slowly tugging up the hem of her skirt, revealing more of her delicious thighs with every inch.

Straddling her hips was restricting his movement, so Draco scooted back on his knees, moving between her legs and spreading her thighs wide.

The position spread her open before him, and fuck if it wasn't the prettiest sight he'd ever seen.

Uncovered and pink and glistening for him.

Only for him.

He was about to touch her when he thought to grab his wand out of its holster and use a cleansing spell on his hands. They had been rolling around in the dirt, after all. Thank Merlin for the speedy convenience of magic.

With his knees planted between her spread thighs, Draco set his hands on the fabric of her cloak and bracketed her hips, putting him at the right angle to press wet kisses to her inner thighs, the points of her hip bones, the soft skin on her lower belly. He even dipped his tongue into her navel—anywhere but where she truly wanted him.

"Draco!" His name was hissed out between her clenched teeth, a mix between a demand and a whimper.

_Perfect._

At her outburst, he stopped all movement and hovered over her, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. "Did you need something, sweets?"

"Touch me!"

"I am touching you," he said as he ran a hand along the dip of her waist, down to the round swell of her hips.

An adorable little growl of frustration escaped her. Deciding to have mercy on her, he dipped a finger into her centre, keeping the movement shallow before spreading the proof of her arousal up and over her skin. When his fingers bumped the side of her clit, she cried out.

Bringing his mouth so close to her that he was sure she could feel the hot puffs of his breath on her sensitized skin, he said, "Better keep quiet, love. All kinds of beasts lurking out here. Wouldn't want to draw them right to you, now would you?"

She glared at him now; her chin tucked to her chest as she attempted to stare him down from her position above him. Her sharp little teeth dug into the soft flesh of her pouty lower lip to stifle a moan, and he nearly laughed at her expression.

Before Hermione could respond to his question, he pressed his mouth between her thighs, tongue slipping inside her as his thumb rubbed circles around her sweet spot.

The control she'd had before started to slip away, her hips bucking into his mouth with jerky movements. He didn't want to stifle her movement completely, but her erratic writhing was making things difficult. He lifted his forearm and set it over her hips, pressing her down so he could focus all his attention between her legs, determined to push her over the edge at least once before he took her.

Two fingers pushed in and out of her as he devoured her with his mouth, and pretty soon her inner walls started to flutter around him. She fell into her release, legs shaking and breath stuttering.

The sweet sounds she was making went straight to his cock. Pressing one last kiss to her still-quivering flesh, he moved up her body, aligning them hip to hip.

Bracing himself on one arm, Draco took his cock in hand, dragging the tip through her wet core before pushing in slowly but surely. When they were pressed as close as they could be, he dropped his forehead to hers.

She keened and raised her hands to his shoulders, nails scraping down his back in a trail of heat, wordlessly urging him to move.

The sounds echoing through the trees were obscene, a mix of slick skin on skin, grunts, and moans as he sped up.

Draco dropped to his elbows, sliding his hands under her back to curl over the tops of her shoulders and give him better leverage to rock in and out of her.

He was getting close, so close, but he could tell she wasn't there yet.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me what you need."

"T-talk to me."

Mmm. Hermione did so enjoy a bit of dirty prose whispered into her ear. He could certainly oblige.

"You love this, don't you? Dirty little girl getting fucked on the forest floor."

Her head rolled back, exposing the hollow of her throat to his mouth and teeth.

"You're so good, so tight, love. Such a good girl."

He guided her leg to hitch up over his hip, allowing him to come at her from a different angle, putting pressure right where she needed it.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well. Fucking perfect. Come on, love. That's it."

A strangled scream ripped out of her throat when she reached her peak again, and Draco's eyes rolled back at the feeling of her clenching around him, dragging him to the edge and pushing him off.

In the moments after, when they lay there trying to catch their breath, she was petting him with gentle hands running over his shoulders, down his arms, scratching his scalp in that way he liked. Still joined with her, he was struck by the overwhelming feelings he had for this witch.

What he had with Hermione—in good times and bad—was the farthest thing from what Draco had imagined his life to be when he was young.

Reality was better.

When he pulled back and helped Hermione sit up, righting her skirt and blouse, she smiled at him with such contentment and affection he almost couldn't believe it.

He was a lucky bastard, and he wouldn't forget it.

* * *

A/N: Lots of love to MidnightValkyrie for pre-reading this and giving me the confidence to post it!


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